


Thanks For Being My Worst Best Friend

by Jackie_Boi (DontMindMeImJustAMeme)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Broken Friendships, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Prison Visit, Sapnap Visits Clay | Dream in Prison (Video Blogging RPF), Sapnap-centric (Video Blogging RPF), george and sapnap being best friends because its what they deserve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29936346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontMindMeImJustAMeme/pseuds/Jackie_Boi
Summary: With a deep breath and shaking hands, Sapnap decides to visit Dream in prison.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Sapnap, Alexis | Quackity/Sapnap/Karl Jacobs, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Karlnapity - Relationship, Sapnap & Clay | Dream, Sapnap & GeorgeNotFound, Sapnap/Karl Jacobs, dream and george can be read as platonic or romantic idc go wild
Kudos: 88





	Thanks For Being My Worst Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and just a heads up! Even though there's DNF implied here, you can take it as either romantic or platonic. Personally, in the Dream SMP universe, I don't see them as romantic, but it's okay if you (and therefore interpret this as such) do. 
> 
> Also friccafracc's art tiktoks inspired a small little section of this fic so please look at their content that shit's good as.
> 
> That's all. No warnings. :D

Everything burns eventually. From a single spark of death, life as one may know it will sizzle away into a burning pile of golden ashes and dust. 

Sapnap knew this, perhaps better than anyone else, and stood gazing at the wall of lava in front of him yet feeling strangely cold. He hates the cold. It feels so wrong against his skin, tugging away at the flame inside of him and trying to snuff it out. His fingers danced nervously upon his thigh, tapping a familiar rhythm of a song he used to enjoy so much. Dream made it, wrote the lyrics and wove the melody, and Sapnap just had to commend the man for being so talented. A fierce warrior with a gentle voice. But now, the words of the song taste bitter on his tongue. It replays in his head, mocking him of when times were better. When it was summer and he, Dream and George would all participate in a game they called ‘manhunt’. Sapnap and George would chase Dream down, in which Dream had to survive for as long as possible. The game would last for days, the longest a week and a half before George was able to lure Dream into a carefully constructed trap manufactured by Sapnap. The adrenaline, the blood and sweat, the drive for victory. And then winter came. 

The cold, relentless and unforgiving winter that showered everything with ice. The revolution was gaining so much traction thanks to one Wilbur Soot and Tommy Innit, and that's when Sapnap noticed a change in his best friend. He didn’t notice instantly which he hates himself for, but the change was subtle enough that Sapnap chose to ignore it. It wasn’t important. He was just imagining things. It was the war and it would go away when the wars ended. 

But the wars didn’t end. Not really. There was no closure, no victory or loss, just a continuous cycle of corpses being piled upon each other and burned. He fought against L’manburg alongside his two closest friends, George and Dream and had remembered feeling so close to them then. Brothers in arms. And then Dream got his hands on Tommy’s discs, and everything changed. 

Maybe it was the taste of power. Maybe it was the wars and death. But whatever it was didn’t matter anymore, because Dream already changed. And maybe he wasn’t too far gone, and Sapnap could have done something about it, could have helped him, but for some reason he just fucking watched his best friend evolve into that of the tyrant the three of them promised to destroy. It was all just so helpless, and Sapnap was so caught up in his own affairs that he didn’t take a moment to amend the damage that had been done. 

He vividly remembers when he accompanied Dream to visit Tommy during his exile. The entire scene was off, something harsh and stale in the air of a land that should have been otherwise untouched. Dream had demanded that Tommy throw away the gift Bad had given along with his armour. He doesn't know what happened to the gift, but the chest plate had been discarded into the hole, and Sapnap only then realised what the bag slung over his shoulder held. He grasped a stick of dynamite, ignited it, then tossed it into the hole. The ground rumbled underneath their feet. The look on Tommy's face. He tried so hard to not reveal how shaken he was, but Sapnap didn’t know what that look meant until now. He does now because he’s seen it before. He saw it on George when he told him that Dream doesn’t care about them anymore.

He'd been so angry back then. The moment he came to the realisation that Dream just didn't care, that nine years of friendship meant fucking nothing, the fire inside of Sapnap's chest hollered. Anything ceramic were the first things to go, shattered pieces littering the ground and then soon accompanied by broken glass jars and mirrors. He threw his chair against the wall, table toppled over and wallpaper ripped. He remembers that after his rampage he sat against the door, clutching a shattered mirror and trying to find himself past the cracked glass. But he wasn’t there, all he saw was the angry demon he was, all black scales, horns and pointed tail, feeling the lava that had been poured into his veins. 

His fingers gloss over the fabric of his white bandana where his scars lie hidden to everyone. He’d shown Dream them first, though he really didn’t have a choice in the matter. It was Dream who found him nine years ago, bleeding and half dead after having his horns ripped from his skull and whipped by an anti-hybrid mob in some town he can’t remember the name of. Dream helped him to his feet, nursed him back to health and suggested the bandana to hide the scars to stop people from staring. He said he looked good with the white one and worn it since. Then he showed George during a quiet moment of privacy between just the two of them, stargazing and staring longingly at the moon. George asked him about his family, and that’s when Sapnap revealed he wasn’t exactly human. Sapnap revealed his scars, and it turned out George had scars too despite the fact that he was human. 

Then there was Karl Jacobs. Back to when he was sitting on the floor amongst rubble, he heard a knock at the door. _“Fuck off, ”_ he had said, and the person behind the door laughed. 

It was Karl. He didn’t need Karl to be near, didn’t need him to see the tears streaming down his face and pity him, but then he replied “ _is that how you welcome everyone into your house, or am I just special?_ ” and felt his heart twist because he was special. Karl was special. And how was he supposed to respond to that?

He didn’t. He just opened the door.

Karl offered him a small ‘ _hey_ ’ with a smile, though his eyes were sad. Sapnap still didn’t say anything and wordlessly stepped aside to grant the other permission to enter. He did, and he almost stood on a piece of glass and cringed sympathetically at the state of Sapnap’s living room. Karl had searched through some of his cupboards and drawers and Sapnap didn’t really bother to stop him because anything of value that had been in there was already probably in pieces, but then he found the dustpan and began to sweep up the shattered bits of glass and ceramics off the ground. Sapnap stood there, dumbfounded and not really registering why or what Karl was doing. But he swept his floor, lifted the chairs and table back in place, and even offered to take out the trash. 

“ _Why are you doing this?_ ” Sapnap had asked after an eternity had passed. 

Karl just replied “‘ _cause I love you, dummy,_ ” and kissed his cheek. “ _You’ve fought so hard. Sometimes even the fierce warrior needs a break_ ”. They collapsed into Sapnap’s bed after that, sharing soft kisses and loving touches, all cosy under bed sheets and each other's embrace. Karl took off Sapnap’s shirt to shower his chest with affection and moved his way up his neck, past his jaw and stopped at his forehead. 

“ _I never see you without that bandana,_ “ he said, though it sounded more like a question if anything.

Sapnap had shrugged. “ _It… It’s important to me_.”

“ _Am I allowed to ask you why?_ ” 

And that’s when Sapnap took it off and explained everything. He had fallen asleep in Karl’s arms that night, Karl kissing his scars tenderly and whispering honey-sweet ‘ _I love you_ ’s into his ear, his fingers tracing over every scar littered on his flesh and pecking every single one of them as if to leave his love behind to help them heal. Karl Jacobs was a sun-kissed rose in a storm while Quackity was a fallen angel with a broken halo. Damaged, but they radiated heat, the light spilling from their chests wherever they went, the stars seemingly following the paths they carved with him. 

Sapnap was brought back to the present when Sam had told him it was time. The lava had descended and he didn’t even notice that until he saw a vague figure sitting down on the ground behind the netherite gates. He just stared at _him_ , and he could tell he was staring back.

“Alright, are you ready to move across?” Sam asks him, voice that same monotone level he’d been keeping it at the entire time of his prison visit. It was so strange. He wasn’t talking to Sam anymore, he was talking to the prison warden. A stranger. 

“Uhh, I’m ready, “ Sapnap replies. He still felt so unsure.

“Right. When the bridge begins to move, make sure that you hold on tight to the railing and secure yourself so you don’t fall.”

“W-”

“And Sapnap, “ Sam interrupts. “I hope that you’re the one.” 

And before Sapnap can ask him what he means, the platform under him violently shakes and leaves him with no choice but to dive for the railing before he's thrown over. The platform hums with energy as it begins its journey forward, Sam slowly growing smaller as he continues towards the cell. He almost doesn’t want to look up. Look at what used to be his best friend. He instead keeps his eyes onto his feet, trying to steady his panicked breathing. The visit wasn’t planned but was rather spontaneous, an act of impulse of wanting to see Dream, and right now he was regretting that choice. What does he say? He wasn’t ready. God, how he wasn’t ready and still gripped onto the steel railing so hard the muscles in his hands were trembling. He closes his eyes while chewing his bottom lip, remembering the comforting words Karl gave him before he left home. 

" _You'll be alright, Sapnap. You'll be okay, I promise_." 

_Everything’s gonna be okay_ , he rationalises in his head. _I’m fine. I. am. fine_. 

He doesn’t feel okay when his best friend’s battered form filters into his vision. Doesn’t feel okay when he reaches the end of the platform and stands literal meters away from a man he once knew. He doesn’t let go of the railing for a long time. He stays there, just staring while Dream stares back with an unreadable look in his eyes. With an incredible feat of strength, Sapnap removes his hands from the railing and takes his first step forward, heels clicking against the obsidian floor. The platform is drawn back, and the air is so much thicker here in this cell, so thick that it clings to the walls of his lungs and threatens to drown him. _Just breathe. Just breathe. I’m okay_. 

“I’m gonna drop the lava now.” Sam’s voice could be heard through the speaker of the left wall. “I’ll open the gate shortly.” 

When the lava sinks over the cell, the netherite gate is opened. Sapnap can feel the sweat drip down the nape of his neck and it’s not from the waves of heat radiating from the lava behind him. He’s never sweat from the heat, and has never sweat this much in his entire life. And yet somehow, he doesn’t feel hot. He just feels so cold. 

Sapnap takes his first few steps over the gate. “...Hello? Dream?” 

He doesn’t respond, only gazes into his eyes through his shattered mask that Sam let him keep despite everything. 

“Are you okay?”

Dream just stood there and stared at the clock mounted on the wall. Silent. Not a single word said. Sapnap’s concern was growing by the second, pooling in the base of his stomach and feels like throwing it all up. _No. No, keep your composure_. “I hope you’re doing okay, man.” Maybe something happened to him, and that’s why he’s reaching out for the blank book on the desk and begins writing in it with ink. When he’s finished, he passes the book to Sapnap.

‘ _I am not talking_ ’

“W…” Sapnap takes a moment to process this. “Why aren’t you talking?”

Dream takes the book back and writes again before passing it back.

‘ _I am not talking_ ’

Sapnap sighs. “Can you say anything other than ‘I am not talking’?”

Dream only just looks at him again, that same disturbing and dead look. He hates it. It doesn’t suit Dream. But his skin is pale, considerably more skinnier judging from the way his orange jumpsuit is bagging around his figure, eyes sunken with deep bruises under them and hair unkempt. Sapnap hates to say it, but. But he looks like a corpse.

Dream turns back to his clock again, just watching the hands tick away the seconds and feeling the distance between them widen. It was like Dream doesn’t even know he’s there, that he’s nothing more than a ghost that hasn’t been his best friend and followed him around for nine years. It hurts. It hurts so fucking in much in a way that Sapnap can’t describe, feeling the ice seep through his ribs and freeze his heart to its core. He can’t stand seeing him like this. It doesn’t matter what he’s done, because Dream used to be his best friend, so no matter how much Tommy hates him, or Tubbo hates him, or Wilbur or even the entire goddamn nation, he still hurts for him. And he hates it. He hates it so much because of how unfair it is. How come Sapnap and George have to suffer for the things that Dream did? Dream hurt George so badly, so he should hate him, Sapnap has every right to hate him for that and the things he’s done to him personally, and yet he can’t. Can’t bring himself to hate Dream.

“Okay…” His fingers graze over the words ‘ _DO NOT BURN_ ’ etched into the wood of the clock’s frame and he saw Dream twitch at the motion.”...You have a clock.”

Dream begins to write, and Sapnap just feels horrible. The air is so uncomfortably thick, this kind of tension so rare between him and his best friends, but maybe Dream wasn’t his best friend anymore, and that’s why he felt like he was drowning with every intake of breath. He paces up and down while the sound of the quill scratching against paper fills the void of silence. 

“I mean, take your time if you need to.” Sapnap isn’t sure why he’s trying to reassure Dream. He doesn’t deserve his validation for what he did.

Dream gives Sapnap the book.

‘ _You took so long_ ’

“Well…” Sapnap begins, kind of just staring at his message and trying to not let those words hurt him. He’s failing. “I don’t know man, you hurt- you hurt a lot of people but… you hurt specifically me. Y’know, with all the stuff you had done, so it took me… took me a little bit to decide to come to see you. It wasn’t- wasn’t easy as you’d think. But um… Y’know… I feel like- I mean-” He pauses, then gives up. “I don’t know man. You’re better than this.”

Then Dream just stares at that same fucking clock again. Like he couldn’t look at Sapnap. 

“You just like to look at that clock?” Sapnap asks, a weird mix of content, frustration and sadness that shouldn’t be able to coexist, and yet does anyway. “You don’t know what to say?”

He just continues to stare, stare at that clock as the hands tick away the seconds. Tick… Tick… Tick… And those seconds were never coming back. Just empty air with so many words left unsaid. 

“You can talk to me, y’know?”

Dream stops looking at his clock, now staring at his bare feet.

“Y’know… Once upon a time, we were best friends. You can- If you need to talk to anyone, you can talk to me.” 

Dream hesitates before opening his book and begins writing, other keeping the book pressed against the obsidian walls and fingers occasionally tracing the golding rim of the clock. He gives the book back. 

‘ _Im on strike_ ’

“Yeah, I’ve heard that you haven't been the most well behaved - you have a problem with burning clocks. So you’re just not gonna talk to anyone? For as long as you’re in here, or…? So when- when are you off strike?”

Dream writes, and Sapnap writes.

This was awful. He felt awful. He’s never seen his best friend, usually so strong and mighty and feared best friend like this. So weak. Refusing the talk and locked away from the world. His mask shattered, a terrible scar over the side of his face where Tommy’s axe had killed him. Sapnap’s only lost one of his lives, but it was painful. It was like his body was thrown under the crashing waves, and no matter how hard we fought against the tide, he could never bring his head to the surface. He had sucked in a lungful of water and choked on salt, felt the hearth underneath his heart flicker and die. And above all it was terrifying. He knew he had three lives, but the uncertainty of death and the feeling of darkness consuming him had left him totally and utterly terrified. Like he was ten again, and seeing those people, people who were so angry with him and little Sapnap didn’t know why until a man pointed at his horns. 

Dream stops writing for a moment, and Sapnap's gaze flickers over to him in a moment of genuine concern. “You okay?”

Dream pauses and just stares into nothing before burying his nose back into the pages and scribbles something out excessively. He begins to write again.

“Your cell’s looking a little rundown. Was it always like this?” Sapnap says, trying to fill in that void of silence that has been clawing away at his chest since. 

And like always, Dream doesn’t respond, just hands him the leather book. 

‘ _It was a security measure_ ’

“ _Oooooh_ .” A pause, and he passes the book back. “You should really talk to me man.” _Please talk to me_. “Y’know… Even though you’ve… done bad things and- and you deserve to be here, it doesn’t mean I- you can’t somewhat be friends anymore…” He claps his hands together and makes a face. “Whatever. This is where you gotta be.”

While he was talking, Dream had been writing. 

‘ _Ill get out one day_ ” 

Sapnap swallows. “No, dude.” He gives the book back. “You can’t. Like, I love you man but you gotta stay here. This is where… This is where you belong for now. Maybe- maybe one day if everyone’s cool with it.”

Dream goes back to scribbling on the pages with the quill, so Sapnap takes his time to really take in Dream’s cell. It was small. Small and black, the walls laced with obsidian for its magic cancelling properties. There’s a small lectern with another space book atop of it, a bookcase and a cauldron of water. There’s glow stone embedded into the ceiling of the cell, being the only light source besides the crackling lava that covers the only exit and entrance of the cell. There are cracks in the ceiling that occasionally drip a strange purple liquid, hot to the touch but not enough to burn Sapnap. It was like the obsidian was weeping, but for who?

“Are you supposed to-” Dream shoves the book into his hands before he can finish.

‘ _I spent days I broke the lectern I was making a portal and he did this_ ’

“Dude, Dream, you- you can’t- you can’t try and escape. Like- Like I miss you being out there with us too but you did like, you- you gotta stay here. This is where you belong for now. You know I- maybe I’ll come and visit you, George will come and visit you -” and Dream seems to flinch at that “- Y’know, we can still be friends but, dude, you have to stay here for now.”

“I’m sorry, “ Sapnap continues. “But- I don’t want you to be sad or upset but like, dude… I think you know that this is where you gotta be as well. Please don’t try and escape.”

He watches Dream’s eyes, trying to find something behind them but coming to nothing when he turns to rip the clock away from where it’s nailed to the wall. He marches over to the lava with intent, and Sapnap realises what he’s going to do.

“ _No no no no no no n-_ ”

Dream throws the clock into the lava.

Sapnap sighs. “C’mon now, that’s just going to make Awesamdude mad. You’re just making this harder on yourself. Alright? You don’t… You don’t have to make this more difficult than it needs to be, okay? You’re- You’re gonna stay here, and yeah, it’s gonna suck, but…” he swallows and hesitates, but he finds the right words. “You’re tough. You can get through it man.”

Another note is passed to him. 

‘ _eventually_ ’ 

“No.” Sapnap can feel the frustration curle dangerously in his chest but tries to keep his composure. He’s never been so impatient before. He’s never needed patience with Dream to begin with. “If- You might have to stay here forever forever, dude. You- I don’t think- I don’t think you’re leaving here. 

Dream just pushes that same note back into his chest, but Sapnap shoves him away as gently as he can manage.

“ _No_. No, Dream, no.”

He pushes the note to him again. 

‘ _eventually_ ’ 

“Dream. No!” He says. “No. You have to-”

‘ _eventually_ ’ 

“I want this to be clear, okay? What you did, the things you did, this is what got you here, okay. So just stay here until… until however long you need to be, and if you try and break out early Dream-” Dream tries to cut him off by passing him the book again, but Sapnap slaps his hand away. “Dream if you try and break out early- you know you only have one life left, okay? And, y’know, I don’t think it’s going to be Tommy, it’s not going to be Techno, Dream.”

“If you break out of this prison, it’s going to be me who takes your final life.”

It hurt to say that. It hurt so much to say that to him, but it had to be said because it was the truth. It was a truth that Sapnap knew all too well, knew it when he swore he had to protect Karl, Quackity and George from everything terrible in this world. And if all terrible things included Dream, then… then it included Dream, and Sapnap was going to do whatever it took to defend them.

“And that’s not because I have any resentment towards you or anything.” No matter how much Dream hurt him, hurt everyone he cared about, he could never hate the person who gave him everything that he had, played tag with, grew up as brothers with and ate the pie’s that Puffy loved baking for them. “It's because this is where you need to be, dude. You have to stay here, okay?”

“We can still be friends and I can come and visit you, but you- you need to stay here. And I think you to… I think you need to fix your act a little bit. Like you don’t need to throw these clocks away, you don’t have to do all this.”

There was more of that silence that Sapnap could never grow used to, the sound of quill scratching against paper as they just breathed in the hot air that’s thick with ash and tension. 

‘ _can you pass a message_ ’ 

Sapnap cocks an eyebrow. “To who. And for what.” It came out more like a demand than a question though. “I don’t wanna…” His voice escapes him. He doesn’t know what to say. 

‘ _he stopped visiting_ ’

“Who stopped visiting?” Dream paces back and forth almost hurriedly, a kind of tension held in his shoulders of something like panic but a more desperate kind. “Who stopped visiting you?” Sapnap makes a mental list of everyone who’s visited Dream at this point but draws a blank to whom it may be. Tommy wants nothing to do with Dream, George can’t bring himself to visit, everyone else has been preoccupied with the aftermath of everything that’s happened, so who? “You can tell me, dude. You can still trust me.” And he meant that. He really meant that, no matter how much he was supposed to despise him.

Dream passes him the book, and Sapnap is immediately taken back.

“Ranboo? You want me to pass a message to Ranboo for you?” He returns the book. “What message?”

When Dream’s eyes return to the pages, his face is unreadable. And Sapnap can’t help but feel so distant because he’s never had this much difficulty deciphering his emotions like this before. He thought they were so close, but every single little thing, every little unique quirk and facet, it had all been a conjured up lie. A means to manipulate him and to surrender his unwavering loyalty. It had to be- There was no other explanation, because if Dream had really revealed the true self to him then Sapnap wouldn’t be able to take that kind of heartbreak. That he really was his best friend and he still was discarded like a pawn on the chessboard. 

Dream stills. The air froze with him, time making a sudden screeching stop as he held out his written message. 

‘ _:)_ ’

“...Just a smile? Well, I mean, I guess it doesn’t seem like- if you really want me to. It doesn’t seem like a big deal to me. I guess I can do that for you…” 

_‘thank you_ ’

“Yeah… no problem.” There’s a light tug at Sapnap’s heart that urges him to continue talking. He doesn’t know why he wants to spend so much time with him because he doesn’t deserve that, not for what he’s done to everyone, to George, to _himself_ , but he goes on “Um… but will you quit acting up if I pass that message? Can you promise me that? Will you stop throwing your clocks away and will you start talking. If- If… If- at least just stop throwing your clocks away. Y’know you don’t have to… If you’re not ready to talk then you don’t have to talk, but… maybe we can get some type of compromise here.”

“Yes.”

Air is caught in Sapnap’s lungs. God.

He sounded so broken. 

His voice was hoarse, most likely from misuse, tone barely above a whisper like he didn’t possess the energy to raise it. Maybe it was the heat. Sapnap didn’t feel the heat like humans did, so maybe Dream was just heat exhausted, and that’s why he’s acting strange. And then there’s Ranboo…

It’s too much. Too much to think about all at once. A confusing pile of rubble and crumbled flowers and ashes, all that remains of his life with Dream now just fucking gone. Useless. But the sound of his voice, that brittle and broken voice makes his heart swell with memories. Memories that once made him so happy only now kindling into a dangerous rage. But there wasn’t rage this time. It was sadness and it was too much. Too much like the rage but instead of being set ablaze he was thrown overboard into the ocean. It was all just too much. 

But he keeps his composure, shoves his hands into his pocket so that Dream can’t see just how badly he’s shaking.

“Alright. Okay. I’ll pass on that message for you.” _It’s just a smiley face anyways. It doesn’t mean anything_. “I’ll pass that for you - pass the message on - and you’ll act better. I’ll- I’ll visit you more… Do you want me to ask George to visit you? Maybe he wants to visit you…”

He flinched at George’s name again as if the word physically stung, but his expression still remains unreadable. Was he guilty? Was he guilty for hurting George? He should be guilty for hurting George. It’s what he deserves. 

And does George actually want to see Dream? Well, Sapnap doesn’t know. George has always been reserved, but he shys away from every mention and little reminder of Dream to the point that they can’t even mention the word anymore. Like treading on eggshells. It was more like glass, really. Hurts just as much as it is delicate. 

“I think- I think- I think you should see George… George should visit.”

Maybe it would be good for them, good for both of them. 

There’s hesitation in Dream for a moment, his hand pausing as he writes. It was brief, and Dream continues to write to make it seem as though nothing happened, but Sapnap noticed it and can’t help but wonder if he was thinking of them three. Dream, George and Sapnap, how it always used to be.

‘ _yes and tell the warden i need a new clock_ ’

“Alright. Alright. I’ll do both of those things for you, okay dude? Just. Just stay here and… and just be good, okay? It’s the best thing for you. Alright?”

_‘thank you for visiting me_ ’

Sapnap gives Dream a sad smile. “No problem.”

He faces the lava, feeling Dream’s gaze on the nape of his neck and shivering under his gaze. He felt so cold.

“Alright Dream. Good seeing you.”

He faces the keypad that remains behind the descended netherite gate which leaves Sapnap to question how Dream will be able to call out for help if he’s ever in any danger. Maybe the gates descended after everyone was gone, or maybe this was just his punishment. He types ‘ _Im ready to leave_ ’ and keeps his eyes fixed on the letters, not giving himself a chance to look at Dream. 

Sam’s voice buzzes through the speaker. “Are you ready to go?”

‘ _Yeah Im ready_ ’

“Go stand in the water, “ Sam says with no further explanation. 

_Go stand in the water?_ His gaze travels back and God forgive him, he looks at Dream. There’s nothing there behind those emerald eyes, save for complete misery and isolation. _He brought this upon himself_ , Sapnap whispers to himself, a mantra of chants that he plays on repeat on his head. He shouldn’t feel sympathy. Dream doesn’t deserve his guilt and his sorrow for him. So he rips himself away from the sight and trains his eyes on the depression in the ground at the very back of the cell that has a thin stream of steaming water running through it. It was odd, and Sapnap didn’t know how he missed it before, but maybe it was because he was so preoccupied with Dream’s presence that he hadn’t really noticed something as subtle as that. 

He steps in the small puddle and begins tapping the song again, the song that Dream wrote before this all happened. It shouldn’t be comforting, but it is in a sad way. 

Then there’s arms wrapping around his body. A flurry of orange and warmth, and Sapnap realises that its Dream. Its Dream, and he’s hugging him and he’s crying. He feels the way his shoulders tremble, hears the way he’s burying his face into his shoulder to muffle his sniffles, but he’s crying and on delay Sapnap realises he’s crying too. Hot, miserable tears roll down his face as he returns his embrace, fisting the orange fabric of Dream’s jumpsuit and unable to contain the sob that rips out of him. All emotion, everything that he’s been bottling up now spilled all over the obsidian floor for just Dream and only Dream to see. Everything so raw, so pure, that feeling of _too much_ clawing at the back of Sapnap’s throat like a scream. 

It's over before either could say anything as a wave of magic washes over their heads. In a blink of brilliant and burning light, Dream’s arms are empty and Sapnap is back where he once stood, facing the lava back with Sam. He furiously wipes away at his face with his sleeve, hoping it's not too evident that he’s cried, though his flushed cheeks and puffy eyes are betraying him.

“Welcome back, “ Sam says while pulling down one of the levers on the control panel, Sapnap slowly turning towards the warden and trying to will his hands to stop trembling.

He coughs into his hand. “Alright.” 

_Is he?..._

_Is he still my Dream?_

_Yeah_ , he tells himself. _He’s still my Dream_. 

He runs his hand over his white bandana and tries to believe it.

That night, Dream reaches out his hand as far as he can go past the netherite gate, pushing half of his shoulder through the bars as he extends his pale hand towards the lava. He’s much thinner than he was a month ago, so he could fit much more of his body in between the netherite. He can’t touch the lava, but he’s close enough that he feels his hand begin to shake under the heat. It burns, and at one point it's like he’s touching the lava because the air is so fucking hot its physically hurting him. 

But he doesn’t mind. It feels like Sapnap. 

  
  


☺☻☺☻☺☻☺

  
  


Sapnap reaches a hand out towards the setting sun, enjoying the way the light scatters across his skin and gives it a vibrant red glow.

“What are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother to turn to George, just keeps reaching out towards the sun as far as he can like he had a chance of getting close to it. He shrugs. “Dunno. I just like the sun, I guess. It makes me feel better.”

“I hate the sun, “ George says, taking his royal cape over his shoulders and wrapping himself in it, snuggling into the warmth it provided under the cool shade the over grown mushrooms provided.

“Yeah, I can see that. You’re so pale, man.” Sapnap glances back to smile at George, but the feeling falls from his scarred lips at seeing the older’s face. “Why do you hate the sun?”

George curls back further into his cape, sinking back deeper like he could just float away from the question that obviously struck a nerve. He didn’t look angry though, even if his eyebrows were furrowed and his fists were clenched. He looked… sad? Regretful maybe? 

He swallows. “It reminds me of _him_.” 

The words rest heavy on his shoulders. There was an unspoken agreement between him and George to never speak of _him_ , never say his name out loud like it was taboo, a terrible curse to bestow upon yourself. And while Sapnap didn’t really want to have a conversation about _him_ , he left it at that, made a snarky one liner when around Karl and Quackity, always changing the subject. But George threw away everything that _he- Dream_ had given him. He loved to give them gifts, but it was obvious that he enjoyed spoiling George. The way his brown eyes would light up at the gift of a sharpened battle axe, or a hand crafted pendant, or a new pair of glasses. And then George would give him a reluctant hug, not because he didn’t appreciate it or love him back, but because of the very opposite. George had given a piece of himself to Dream, and like he did to Sapnap, took it without a second glance and crushed everything they had. And maybe George gave too much of himself away, more than he would like to admit, and that’s why he’s throwing everything away, burning all the memories he can scavenge. It’s because he loves him too much, a pain Sapnap is all too familiar with. 

“Yeah, it does. Huh?” 

It was hard not to think about their sun-kissed friend. His smile shone like golden rays of pure sunlight, bright eyes that reflected daylight and face speckled with stardust. It was like an angel crafted him, wove him out of pure gold thread, and now whatever goddess out there has to stand there and weep at her creation. What it’s done. He remembers late days like this one, where the sun would set and Dream would smile at Sapnap with a kindness so sweet and candied while the sun basked his hair in golden string and wrapped around his form like a halo. How could someone so holy do something unsanctified? But then he remembers that Lucifer too was once an angel. 

Sapnap backs away from the cliff face and turns to George’s side underneath the shelter of the large, red mushroom. He rested his heavy head against the stem, closed his eyes and sighed. They sat in comfortable silence, feeling her hand gently cup his cheek and smile down at him. He felt at peace around George. It was probably unhealthy, airtight and codependent of him, but everything was just better with George here. George was grounding. If Dream was the burning sun then George was the gentle rain that washed all that had been worrying Sapnap away. He was content when beside him, able to hear the other breath like he needed that constant confirmation he was alive. 

“Would you forgive him?” 

The question caught Sapnap off guard and he leaned up to look at George. His expression was almost unreadable, but there was something in those hickory eyes that seemed so lost. 

Sapnap chews on his lower lip and looking at his calloused hands, searching for answers deep beneath the wrinkles and scars. “Yeah. I would.” He closes his hands. “You?”

“Yeah, “ George admits. “And I hate myself for it.” 

They slip back into that silence again, but this time it was different. This time the air was thick with the implications of those words, what this all meant, what they were going to do moving forward. Was it ever going to move forward. It’s been so long now, more than a month, and you think that a warrior and hellspawn would be able to fucking process these feelings by then, but like a raging bushfire they burn on. It was all so awful and miserable. Quackity had suggested Sapnap rip a paper towel for whenever the _‘too much’_ was back, and for the most part it worked. But he had nothing to offer for the emptiness that George felt. He sat by in guilt, watching those little mushrooms and moss grow on his cape and George doing nothing to remove them. He didn’t really understand why George kept them, but they did look cute with blossoming red with white splotches. 

“There’s nothing I can do, “ George says very matter-of-fact, shattering the silence and letting the shards fall onto the forest floor. And for a moment Sapnap gives him a confused look so he continues. “Like, everything that’s happened, _everything-_ my entire world… It was all about _him_.” 

George tucks his knees up to his chest and cradles himself, leaving Sapnap to have his heart cracking at just how broken the other looked. Curled in on himself, biting his lower lip, eyes glossy and so, _so_ helpless. It was odd. The look didn’t suit George. Resilient, stubborn George who refused to show any ounce of vulnerability, reserved and kept his heart never on his sleeve but locked away in his ribcage. It was rare to pull vulnerable moments out of George, but it had never been like. Been like _this_. Because back then they were part of a trio and never a pair. 

George continues. “What do you… What do you do about the heartbreak?” His voice is thick and rich with emotion that threatens to come undone and trying to hide it with a laugh. 

For a moment they lock eyes, and Sapnap wants to be angry, so fucking angry because of the raw hurt in George’s eyes. _Dream did this_ . Dream did this to him, did this to George and it’s not fucking fair because he didn’t deserve this. Neither of them deserve this and yet here they were, wallowing in an emotion so heavy and ugly it threatens to smother the careful flame in his chest like a blanket but he _can't_ . He can’t be angry. Not to Dream. He can be angry at himself - and God he gets so fucking _angry_ sometimes - but can never will himself to direct it at Dream. Can never hate Dream. And the feeling makes him bitter, sour on his tongue and a subtle ache in his bones. 

So he turns that roaring fire into that of a gentle flame. Renewing and warm. The person he knows he can be. 

“You-” Sapnap pauses and thinks of what he’s about to say next. “ _You_ _cry_.” 

George looks at him with a disbelieving look, hickory eyes shimmering with an unshed sadness that threatens to spill down his pale cheeks. And when George opens his mouth to retaliate, Sapnap throws his arms around him. “You cry…” 

There’s a gentle shudder that tells Sapnap that George is sobbing, but he barely makes a sound past his sniffling. George finally brings his arms around Sapnap’s back and tugs at his clothing, beckoning for him to be pulled closer and struggling to breathe. The croaking of crickets above George’s sniffling wraps around their bodies like a warm blanket, a comfortable and natural silence as he lets George weep into his shoulder. Sapnap can’t cry, not after the tears he shed earlier that morning, but let his heart weigh heavy as he mourns the loss of their best friend with George. Sapnap almost felt uncomfortable hearing the older sob. George barely cried around them. This kind of grief felt so personal, like something Sapnap shouldn’t witness, but he stays there with his arms around George’s trembling body because he needs it. Needs to be close to George. Needs the confirmation of his chest rising and falling. 

“Sorry, “ George mutters, voice muffled from here his face is still pressing on Sapnap's shoulder but sounding delicate. 

“Nah, it’s alright, man, “ Sapnap says. “Sometimes we need a good cry, y’know?” 

George hums in agreement and slowly pulls away, but still resting close to Sapnap. “I just… don’t know what to do? Everything has just gone to shit, and I don’t know how to fix any of it.”

Sapnap wishes he can offer some sort of answer, but he can’t so he smiles sadly. “Yeah, same. But we’ll figure this out together, okay? You’re all I got, man.” 

“That’s not true, “ George says. “You’ve got Karl and Quackity…” 

It takes a moment for the implication of those words to set it, why he seemed so sad and miserable to say that, but then it hit him. 

_Oh_.

Maybe what Karl and Quackity is to him, was what Dream was to George, and now that he’s gone… 

“God, I’m sorry.” 

George shakes his head. “No It’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Because he always seemed fine, always seemed unaffected by everything that goes on around him. Sapnap never had the privilege of seeing what he truly felt, but maybe Dream did, and that just made it worse. 

Sapnap tries to smile at him. “Wanna do some more crying?” 

“God no, “ George sighs and rolls onto his back. “I’ve done enough crying for the next ten years of my life.” 

Sapnap joins George on the dewy ground and feels the damp grass tickle the back of his neck. “Amen.” 

The sun had set during their vulnerable moment, casting a pink and purple view over the night sky as the sun kissed the stars goodnight. Sapnap glances over at George, eyes closed and his chest steadily rising and falling. Huh. He’s already asleep. The glowshrooms illuminate his face, high cheekbones and strong nose with slight freckles only on the right side of his face. He was pretty when he slept, and Sapnap realises that this is the most peaceful he’s seen him all afternoon. 

He doesn’t want George to catch a cold so he gently lifts his body from the ground, careful enough to not disturb him and carries him back home. Kinoko isn’t too far from here, and he’d want to be quick before the zombies rise from their graves, but a quick look at George makes Sapnap believe that everything will eventually be okay. 


End file.
